


Bring on the Encore

by MirmLovesHollstein_136



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Mystery, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-01 00:33:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13283163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirmLovesHollstein_136/pseuds/MirmLovesHollstein_136
Summary: “l ruled the worldI took my turnI saw it bleed, I saw it burnWatched with scrutinizing gazeAs it fell in a matter of daysI ruled the worldI took my turnI ruled the worldTo watch it burn”





	1. The Queen

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyy! A clexa fic this is new! Hope yah like it! New computer, new stories and new updates. Let's do this twenty-gay-teen!

    "SDQ-SDQ!-SDQ"

 

       I turned at the encore, looking back at the stage. My breathing heavy and fingers numb from the guitar strings.

 Octavia chuckled, replacing her bass back over her shoulder. Her face paint smudged with sweat, and long brown hair a mess.

 

     "Our fans call to us."

 

    I looked to Raven, her gelled hair was barely in the pony tail it had been pinned in anymore. A smile still on her face.

 

     "Let's smash this," she complied, her drum sticks already in hand. I laughed,

 

     "Only _you_ , Ray would say that."

 

    With that, I ran back on to the large, smoke filled stage, the audience roared to life, and my mind went blank, peace under the drone of noise. Thoughtless

 

   Just how I liked.

 

  Little did I know, just a room away, a figure loomed, a body lay still on the ground, and my life-was about to change.

Act I

1

The Queen 

 

    The next 18 hours past in a blur. My manager was carried away in a bag, body to be exhumed, my band mates and I devastated, we point haste canceled the rest of our tour. The paparazzi were thankfully kept at bay, but the questions still swarmed as each one of us were separated and interrogated.

 

   I was last.

 

     Octavia came out of the room, usually cheerful face, drained and pale looking. Her blue eyes met mine except there was no happiness there. Almost something-something. Fear maybe? No. More so; dread.  

 

   I walked cautiously into the room, the detective had left before I arrived, going to get something. At least that's what O had told me. And in that time, Octavia and Raven were the only ones it seemed I could trust.

 

   The room was cold, and a bleak gray. It almost matched the feeling in it. A single table in the room and two metal chairs. I laughed aloud,

 

     "Very cliché isn't it."

 

    "Do you think?" A voice interrupted my thoughts, making me turn with a bit of a jump. I'd been off my kilter lately-since the...the...I couldn't bring myself to say it.

 

   I don't know why I expected a man, I suppose in my head when Raven had come out of this same room with his head down and eyes watery it would be a large scruffy, forty year old detective. Not..not at all a woman.

 

   Chestnut hair, stark green eyes and the slightest show of freckles that littered a narrow nose. She was dressed not at all like the noir movie detectives. No trench coat and low brow hat. She wore a standard white button up and dark pants, her gun holster swung over her shoulder, I could tell she wasn't messing around.

 

     "Detective Lexa Woods." She introduced herself, without a wind of me she sat down. Leaving me standing in the middle of that cold, steel room, stunned. I turned on my boots and walked to the opposite chair. Sinking down slowly, I could feel the detective’s eyes boring into me-but I didn’t meet them. She placed a manila folder in front of me, her bowed lips pressed into a hard line.

 

   Opening it she spoke, the first time I’d heard it, it had taken me off guard and I hadn’t paid attention to it, now as her lips moved I listened with rapt attention. It was low at first and I thought had a smidgen of an accent, though it was so slight I thought I’d imagined it. It sounded slightly husky, but in different circumstances could’ve been a soft sound. But not warm, her words were jarring, all business,

 

   “Clark Lea Griffin. Aka-the Queen,” her eyebrows shot up as she read a bit to herself, “twenty-three. Grew up in a small town, moved up here at eighteen yada yada _yada_ ,” Detective Woods droned.

 

   I stared down at my hands, folded together in my lap, the knuckles white from how tight I held them together. She leaned back, closing the folder and fixing me with those deep eyes again.

 

   “The folder is a bunch of shit anyway. Why don’t you tell me a bit about this band of yours.”

 

   I mentally made a note that she distanced herself from the band. Those days everyone knew our name. ‘The Spade, the Diamond, and the Queen’ and our acronym was on almost every billboard this side of the U.S. Everyone knew our story, and everyone knew what happened to our manager, Barry.

 

   “It’s SDQ,” I said. She chuckled, and stood back up, running her fingers through her hair. She then, placed her hands back on the cold table.

 

   “I know what it’s called. But my musical taste isn’t exactly that of a fourteen year old, so I’m afraid there will be no autographs for me. However, you can tell me a bit about your band so I can do my job.”

  
   I was taken aback. I didn't even know this woman and she was acting like this? She couldn’t have even been more than a year older than me. Anger boiled up in my chest and my hand clenched tighter together. I was not gonna lose my cool. Not for this. Do this for Barry.

 

_“For Barry,”_ I told myself, then said aloud,

 

   “Fine. We started when I was about nineteen,Octavia, Raven and I...we uh, we were happy. Kids just playing gigs we could get our hands on and scrounging for whatever we could be worth.” I took a deep breath in. It was harder to talk about than I would’ve thought, but the detective stayed quiet, her eyes now averted from my face, “Then, then, yahknow Barry discovered us and he-he really tried and well he made us big. Like ‘posters in millions of rooms; up there with the Beatles; going down in history’ big. And then, his corporation got switched and they started makin’ us play shit songs at shit gigs, got us this tour and well...you see how that ended.” I laughed humorlessly as I finished the tale.

 

   “I see,” Woods said softly, then looked up again, “Tell me about the names. Spade, Diamond, Queen?”

 

   I laughed again at how carefree it’d once been, after the crowd having shouted the shortened version so many times, the picture signings. I’d all but almost forgotten the point. Our act was slight of hand and I told the detective as such.We would do things like disappear and reappear on stage; bring instruments from what was thought to be thin air, or blow fire from our hands, ice from our mouths; electricity from our fingertips.

  
  
   “So like the deck of cards?” She said after I finished explaining, “the Queen? the spade?”

 

   I nodded, my head was starting to hurt. Where was the coffee guy when you needed him? What was his name Mumphurd-Milan-Mike? Something like that, 'didn’t matter much he was just the coffee guy and boy do I wish he was here now.

 

   “One last question, then you’re free to go,” Detective Woods said. I blinked out of my stupor and looked up, finally meeting her green eyes. “Do you know _anyone_ who’d like to hurt you, your band mates, or your manager?”

 

   I paused. Because I’d thought of this so much I’d passed out thinking on it. Could there have been? I mean sure we had our critiques, but enough to want to bring us harm? So instead I went with what was in my head,

 

   “Have you ever had a nickname Detective?”

 

   The detective looked thrown, then rose her eyebrows,

 

   “Probably one or two back in high school.”

 

   I nodded again, this time gauging how she had seemed to put up some sort of cold barrier at the personal question.

 

   “Well imagine having one all the time. That millions of people call you. They say it so much sometimes they don’t even remember your real name. And when they say it, it feels like a stranger is being talked about. That’s how it is being the 'Queen'. It’s just that. Not my first name-not my last-just the Queen. Sometimes you yourself forget what your real name is and it all eventually blurs into one noise. Just a noise. The same one in fact, over and over and over. Until you stop paying attention. Now I love my fans and if I could know all of them-would I? Who knows. There are some real weirdos out there. But I couldn’t tell you if one was out to get us even if I tried.”

 

   She seemed to understand this without further explanation and told me I can go. Before I walked out she said my name. My name. It was strange, even rolling off a stranger’s tongue,

 

   “The weirdo’s-they hang about?” She asked once I’d turned. I bobbed my head. On multiple accounts people had broken into my house and other things as such. I wrote them off as over crazed fans but confessed out loud to the detective it could’ve been something more sinister. She didn't say anything, just sat back at the table with a ‘hm’ which I supposed was my farewell. I needed to get out of there,

 

And for fucks sake a coffee.

* * *

 

 

 

   Once I had reached the studio Raven was tapping out a beat with two pens, humming a tune I didn’t recognize.

 

   “Hey kiddo,” I greeted, with a raised hand. I’d always called her such, considering she was younger than me, it made sense. Plus Raven had one of those faces face, regardless of being twenty-two, she looked young and happy; carefree. She had always kept her hair in weird updo’s, the tips always dyed a bright color. She was the baby of the band and yet had an air of maturity about her.

 

   “Sup Queen!”

 

   I sighed and flopped on the deep red leather couch beside her. She gave me an apologetic look, she knew I hated being called that.

 

   Raven was wearing her Spade necklace. Of course, I personally didn't like to embrace the subculture which had become our lives and somehow our identities, so I hardly ever wore _my_ pendant. It’s brazen gold held the shape of a crown, laced with thin strips of silver. It still lay in the box I’d received it in. My eyes swept up from Ray’s necklace which distracted me. A glittering ruby in the middle of it seemed to glint eerily in the luminous lights.

 

   “Just got done talking to that detective.” I answered, huffing a bit indignantly. Raven put down the pens she was drumming with.

 

   “Crazy about the card right? Gives me the chills just thinking about it

 

   I blinked, the detective hadn't said anything about a card. When I told Raven this her eyes shot up to mine.

 

   “Really? That’s the first thing she told me and Octavia.”

 

   I grit my teeth, slight annoyance over taking me,

 

_Probably too busy saying our music was for kids to mention it.’_ I thought. Ray continued, unwavered by my shift in mood.

 

   “Well too spare you the gruesome details...they found...well Barry was killed by asphyxiation...uh, they found a card in his throat. Like, like a card from a deck.”

 

   My mouth dropped open, anger filling me, that sick bastard. She nodded as if understanding my disgust, but didn’t stop there,

 

   “It was the Suicide King. Whoever did this to Barry, well they either hated us or, they have some twisted way of sayin’ otherwise,”

 

   “Well they don’t hate us,”

 

   I turned to see Octavia looming in the door frame. Her face was more pale than usual, her often perfect hair looked a mess, as if she hadn’t gotten sleep in weeks. But hell, none of us had. The times I had gotten sleep were plagued with our managers cold, hollowed eyes. Always mouthing something I couldn’t quite make out  

 

   “I just got off the phone with one of the psychoanalysts for the NYPD. Said Barry was alive when whoever offed him stuffed that card down his throat. This isn’t just some random murder that happens everyday in New York. They said this was planned, and took time. They want us to continue on with the tour. To catch this guy and hopefully before he tries again.”

  
   “And what makes you think he’ll try again?” I asked, in a tone not like my own.

 

   “On the back of the card there was writing in invisible ink. It said...it said, ‘Act I: The Club Has Fallen; The Show Must Go On’.” Octavia said. Her voice matched mine. And I think in that moment we all felt dread. The same pit in our stomach. I shared a grim look with my fellow band mates. I’d thought perhaps I could put this to rest along with Barry and eventually move on. Seemed someone else had a different plan. And we had front row seats to it all.


	2. The King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The police come barring some bad news, and Clark might find Lexa a bit cute. A bit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANOTHER

Two days later-a Thursday. 'Up there on my list of least favorite days possibly ever. At least I had coffee this time.

 

   “We as a band have decided,” I spoke, calculated and with purpose into the mic. The echo, drummed in my ears, making my head hammer. I gulped, my mouth and throat seemed to be extremely dry and the coffee just wasn't cutting it. “To proceed with the tour, as originally planned.”

   As expected, the room of journalists erupted into a cluster of noise. I looked at Octavia and Raven, sitting to the left and right of me. We knew this panel would be quite painful, loud as it was, but the card said it must happen.

 

 _'The show must go on'_.

 

   I gulped again. My throat was so damn dry. And it was getting too loud in this room, I started a slow, rhythmic, drumming with my fingers on the table.

 

   “No more questions.” I heard Octavia say. Which did nothing to halt the noise, perhaps even made it worse. One of our security guards and Octavia’s brother, Bellamy, stalked up to the stage but I wasn't watching everything that was happening around me. I thought I registered other security guards verbally trying to keep the journalists at bay. With Ray near the front and Octavia trailing behind, I found myself being herded off stage.

 

   In the makeup room it wasn't much better. All the prepping to go out and see the cameras wasn't helping my headache. Cecil, who was my makeup guru or whatever, was fussing over me like usual when Bellamy tapped on my shoulder. My hair was half up, and I had an awful bib looking thing around my neck, which made me wonder, what could possibly be so important? Cecil whistled slightly, and hummed almost appreciatively. Then, as she put the comb down on the table and pulled off the hair smock, I knew it must be something serious. Maybe another note? I turned myself around.

 

   “Ah, Detective.” I said, very unimpressed by Detective Wood’s sudden appearance. The cop smirked, and all but spit out,

 

   “The feeling is mutual, Queen.”

 

   I’d never heard someone say my nickname with such spite before. What had I ever done to this chick? She looked like someone had woken her up from a nap, because she had a button up on again, but this time it was untucked, the sleeves had been shoved roughly to her elbows and her hands clasped a paper cup, which I assumed was from our very coffee boy. Her hair was a bit frumpled and if she didn’t seem to have a bone to pick with me so badly I would’ve even classified it borderline cute. Borderline. It might as well have been the lack of sleep that made me think it. But that was irrelevant. I didn’t have any room to talk because I must have looked terrifying. With my Queen sweatshirt and joggers. I must've appeared to have just rolled out of bed.

 

   Though, you have to go to bed to technically roll out of it. The band practically lived on the road or at various hotels. Plus with my wonderful half finished hair, I can imagine the title, ‘lady killer’ really rang out. Behind Detective Lexa followed a fit darker skinned man. He looked a couple years older than I, hair buzzed. He had a bit of scruff but only a few wisps, His eyes looked sleepy and he held a coffee cup as well. Dressed in a NYPD shirt with his badge draped around his neck he obviously was Detective Wood’s partner. She confirmed my suspicions when she introduced him,

 

   “This is my partner, Detective Lincoln Arden. He’s here to help with the case.” As she said this, Woods looked me up and down. I could've sworn a slight smile played at her lips, but it disappeared as quickly as it came when Octavia rounded the corner. Her hair pulled into a bun and face blotchy and red, she looked like he’d been crying.

 

   “Detective Woods, Detective Arden. I believe we talked over the phone. She reached out and firmly shook both their hands, “Raven is in her dressing room, she’ll join us in a minute.”

 

   I stood, and the feeling of finally being out of that chair made me feel a bit better. Detective Arden stepped up,

 

   “I am really a big fan-” he began.

 

   “We’re here for a reason,” the lead detective cut in with the raise of her hand, “But, we shouldn't talk about it here. Is there somewhere-” She glanced at Cecil, “more private.”

 

   Cecil raised her hands in defense, “I know when I’m not wanted,” she said, turning too leave and muttering in spanish. When she opened the door, Raven walked in after she’d walked out. She looked just as tired as Octavia and how I figured I did. Her usually done up hair was combed out and looked freshly washed. At least one of us was taking care of themselves. Once we were settled and sitting on a very uncomfortable couch, the police standing, they began to explain.

 

   “The man who killed your manager, or as we at the precinct call him, the unsub, has inserted himself into your lives. He’s obviously very narcissistic and probably struggles with a disorder, causing him to believe your whole ‘act’ is real.” Woods explained. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a note. She was wearing gloves so I didn’t think to much of her handling it, but the parchment was a frayed vanilla and made my blood run ice cold. Just the sight of another note my my heart beat faster, my breath catch.

 

   “This arrived at the station yesterday. No fingerprints. No DNA. We’re dealing with a professional stalker.”

 

   “One thing, I must mention before continuing. There was perfume sprayed on it. Can you identify it?”

 

   I stood and walked to where it was held. Octavia and Raven were sitting stark still. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath. I took a whiff. Immediately stepping away as if it had burned me, my eyes widened. Octavia and Ray were immediately on their feet, hands out to steady me if I passed out. Which I felt like I might.

 

   The detective’s looked confused and even a bit scared themselves.

 

   “What? What is it?” O asked, her hand on my arm as if trying to comfort me but I just felt, a lack of air. Smothered. Scared. Trapped. The room began to spin.

 

   “It’s...it’s my perfume. My _custom_ made perfume I had imported from Europe.” I spun around and scanned my table, “He’s been in here. He’s been in _my_ room.”

 

   “Alright, okay, Clark calm down.” Octavia said. Fear ran through my body first, then anger. How dare he. I turned back to Detective Woods. She looked taken aback, as if my face was what nightmares were made out of. At the moment, I was happy she didn't taunt.

 

   “What does it say.” I ground out. My fists were clenched till my knuckles were white. Arden raised his hands,

 

   “Perhaps you should sit. Breath a bit before we tell you.”

 

   I glared sharply at the Detective. One after the other. Then let out a puff of air, sinking back into the couch. Octavia and Raven stayed standing. O stared at the floor, looking like she wished she could be anywhere but there. She pulled out a pack of cigs and lit it. I knew she must be stressed so I didn't say anything. Raven just stared off into space, her arms crossed and shoulders sagging. Detective Carlson unfolded the parchment paper, flipped it so we could see it. She pointed to the neatly scrawled words that seemed to be written in dark calligraphy. She read,

 

“ _To those who try to stop me,_

_Do not look, Do not seek. The grand show; a hook. The knights of weak. I rule the land, the kingdom calls. I am the Mad King who watched it fall. But by my side shall sit a queen. A queen of beauty and grace. A queen of regal presence; a flower’s face.You shall not try to stop our love, for it is real, blessed from above. The Diamond and Spade only are pawns, the mighty knights lack brains or brawn.  I shall be watching, I will know. Do not try to stop the show._

_-the King_ ”

 

   She finished a little softer sounding than before. And the room was quiet for a hot minute.

 

   “You’re joking.” Octavia finally said, “He actually thinks Clark is a queen? And Ray and I are-are just her _subjects_?”

 

   Detective Arden nodded,

   “In the unsubs mind, he is a king and is doing right by Clark. Trying to win her hand. The police, we suspect, are the knights he talks about. And therefore; we introduce the plan.”  

 

   “As he seems to be watching the NYPD, Lincoln and I are to go undercover as security guards. Keeping up with you from the inside.” Woods continued, “we’ll catch this guy. He’s most likely in his twenties and highly, highly dangerous.”

 

   “Great. Babysitters” I snapped. I didn’t mean it, but placing the blame on someone else felt better than blaming Barry’s death on myself. Detective Woods frowned and began to say,

 

   “Showing a bit of appreciation would be-”

 

   “I think-” Octavia said, abruptly stopping her, “We’d like a moment alone right now. If you don’t mind.”

 

   The detectives lingered but eventually said they'd give us twenty minutes before it was time to leave. We'd have to face the camera's eventually. As soon as the door closed and let my head drop to my hands and let the tears fall. Raven sat beside me, then an arm was wrapped around me. I couldn’t quite understand every word she was saying but I made out the gist of it.

 

   “Everything will be okay, it’ll be okay.”

 

   I felt myself react, I couldn’t think, I heard myself respond, harsh, biting,

 

   “No, no it’s not okay Raven.” The tears were coming harder now as I weakly pushed against her, trying to get her off of me, “Didn’t you hear them, _I’m_ dangerous. He could come after _you_ , he-he could come after _Octavia_. He killed Barry. He _killed_ him because of me.” My voice leveled at a yell and my hands clenched to fists. But my punches were weak. I was tired. I felt another pair of arms behind me,

 

   “Clark, Clark, Clark-stop _-stop,_ ” Octavia had pulled me around to look at her. I could see tears at the corner of her blue eyes, “It’s not your fault okay? This guy is sick, he’s _sick_ , _he_ is the who killed Barry. Not you.”

 

   I finally stopped, too tired to continue fighting. Raven placed her hand on my shoulder. I felt bad for hitting her, but I couldn’t get anything out except a weak stutter out. Raven brushed it away, and smiled, understandingly.

 

   When Octavia spoke again it was almost icy,

 

   “Don’t worry. We’re gonna find this bastard. And he’s gonna pay. He best hope the police find him first.”

 

   I finally found sleep there. But then again I wasn’t truly safe, not really.

 

* * *

 

   

   When I awoke, I had been moved to Octavia's dressing room. By whom I hadn't the slightest clue but I felt slightly refreshed after the nap. I sat up slowly stretching and letting my bones pop in relief. The door swung open making me jump,

 

   "Oh, uh Clark you're awake." It was detective Woods with a glass of water. She had changed and was now in a nicely fitted black shirt that read security on the front. Around her neck instead of her badge was an identification card. And on her head was a black ball cap, her brown hair pulled neatly into a pony tail. It was a good look. Not that I was looking. Just an observation. She looked surprised I was awake and almost flustered. Like I'd caught her with her hands in the cookie jar. I rubbed my eyes. 

 

   "How long was I out? An hour? Two?" 

 

   Lexa shifted from foot to foot nervously and looked behind her like she wished she could go right back out that door. 

 

  "Oh, um-" She grimaced, "About nine hours" 

 

   I lurched up and Lexa stepped back. I had no idea how I looked after nine hours of sleeping on a couch and not having taken a shower in a day, but judging by the reaction it wasn't very good. 

 

  " _Nine hours_?" I snapped.

 

  "Octavia and Raven thought it was best if you got some sleep. They handled the press. Told 'em the Queen was dealing with some stuff." She shrugged and put her hands in her pockets. 

 

   "My stalker could have broken in during that time. I was asleep I couldn't have known I was in danger-"

 

  "No Clark. I-we weren't gonna let that happen. Lincoln and I have been guarding the door all day." the detective interrupted my rambling. I ran my hand through my hair frustrated that I had let my guard down. Frustrated with myself. I sighed and shook my head, 

 

   "Why are you even in here? Doesn't the sight of all the SDQ merch give you nausea?" I said looking back up to meet Detective Woods' eyes. She looked nervous again and laughed toeing the floor with her boot. 

 

   "Yeah, it does. Must say not as nauseating as watching Raven and Lincoln _both_ flirt with Octavia to no avail." 

 

  I laughed too. It felt good to laugh. With everything that had been going on I'd almost forgotten how. 

 

  "And, I uh, brought you water. Raven said you've been having these bad migraines so I thought, you might like this." She reached out to hand me the glass. She was still standing on the other side of the room however. I stood, slightly dizzy from sleeping for so long, and took it. 

 

   "Why? Don't you hate me or something?" I tried to make it sound light. I doubted I manged though as Woods let her eyes drop. 

 

   "We may have gotten off on the wrong foot Clark but I can assure you I do not hate you." 

 

   I wanted to ask why she had been such a bitch the first two time's we'd talked then but I didn't get a chance too. My door flung open, making Lexa stand in front of me. Lincoln was already there however, grabbing the perpetrator and pulling him back. I rolled my eyes. 

 

  "Clark, Clark, I love you please, please!" 

 

  Lexa looked at me confused. 

 

   "Do you know this man?"

 

   I nodded and took a sip of my water.

 

   "This is Finn Collins. He's my 'number one fan' as he states." 

 

   Finn stares at me with a big smile on his face. He was dressed up like he was going on a date. His hair brushed. 

 

   "I'm Clark's future husband. I brought you flowers Clark but they took them away. I knew I had to get to you though. So I ran." Lexa looked to Lincoln as Finn struggled against the man's grip. 

 

  "Look he's not dangerous. He's not the guy. He's been a super fan for years and Finn is defiantly obsessed but he's not insane. He'd never hurt me or anybody else." I said and pushed passed Detective Woods. Finn looked confused his eyebrows scrunched together, 

 

   "Of course I'd never hurt Clark. And I defiantly wouldn't hurt anybody around her. I just want Clark happy." He spoke to Lincoln more so trying to convince him. Lincoln huffed and turned to Lexa,

 

   "Lex?" 

 

  "I think the cops already did a background check on him." She said, obviously trying to play up her body guard status. Although she didn't do it very well. Certainly not an actress. Finn nodded in agreement.

 

   "Look I'll leave okay, I just wanted to give Clark the flowers. I read that she was upset about Barry. It's all over the forum. You can read about it on my tumblr it's-"

 

   "Okay buddy time to go then." Lincoln said, pushing him out of the room. 

 

   "I love you Clark. I'll be at every show, in every state I promise." Finn yelled over his shoulder. I did not need this right now. I needed to pack. Our first show back since Barry died was in two day's and I wasn't even ready to get on the bus. It was a full day trip after all. I looked at Lexa who was as stiff as a bored. Whoever she had been when she had brought me the water she wasn't anymore. She blinked, and looked at me, 

 

  "We leave in two hours for Nashville. Be ready."

 

  And with that she walked out leaving me alone once again.  

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked leave a kudos or a comment, they make my day!
> 
> Author of: Farmer's Daughter-Carmilla and We're All Mad Here-Carmilla
> 
> If you wanna; come talk to me http://miriammtthis.tumblr.com/


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